Salvage
by Lipush
Summary: "Told you not to trust anyone, now, didn't I?" a dangerous smile is on his guest's face, and he growls quietly, "Now, the rules of this game are about to change..." - A chilling plot-twist of the masterpiece that is 4x07 'Cops And Robbers'
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- Ever happened to you that you watched a 'Castle' episode, and suddenly came up with a crazy, "what if" idea for a fanfic?**

**Well, yeah, this is what fanfic is all about, though what happened to me after watching one of my favorite episodes can be defined as nothing else but temporary insanity. Seriously.**

**I have NO IDEA how on earth I came up with this, I have no idea what's I'm gonna do with it, but...oh well. If you say this is awful, I'll leave it and just go with the first thought of "WTH was I thinking?" and never try a similar idea ever again; but if you think I should continue, just tell! give some insight and advice, too!  
><strong>

**So, here it is.**

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><p><strong><span><em>sal·vage<em>**

_tr.v._ sal·vaged, sal·vag·ing, sal·vag·es

**A. ** The rescue of a ship, its crew, or its cargo from fire or shipwreck.

**B. **To save from loss or destruction.

**C. **The act of saving imperiled property from loss.

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 1:<strong>

NOW

Homicide detective Katherine Beckett can feel her heart in her throat as her sweaty fingers entwine nervously.

Turning her head aside, her eyes stare into the deep blues of the captain.

They both know just what's at stake, they both know that if something goes wrong _now_, they can kiss this operation goodbye.

He looks at her hesitatingly, "You sure about this?" he questions feebly. Taking to mind that the captain, up till now was the follower, as she had the last word in this, he must admit he doesn't feel very comfortable with the idea. With what's about to happen.

They cannot trust this guy.

But they're also running out of options. And time.

Kate's body leans forward, to lie down on the cold floor, as she, the captain, and the snipers nearby and on top of the building are on immediate alert, trying to sense any change in the already tense atmosphere; She doubts they'll be of much help now, but the captain insisted.

She knows Ryan and Esposito are somewhere nearby, though she has difficulty spotting them in the darkness, taking to mind they're too far for her to locate.

But she has bigger problems now.

The captain is right, she has to admit; It's very risky, and they don't even know if that guy's to be trusted. He's a butcher, she knows that. Kate always hated the butchers, but also hoped that his expertise, if that's even the right way to call it, in the field, could become of use.

It's too late to wonder whether she has made the right decision or not.

The familiar buzz of her phone snaps her out of her thoughts, and her eyes try to adapt to the lighting screen as she reads the message.

"GAME ON."

And she grabs her gun tightly.

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><p>His small eyes sparkle as he loads the cash in the duffle bag. Tilting his head, he blinks at the small boy sitting on the chair in front of him.<p>

The young boy is terrified.

As he brushes it off, knowing his son's temper changes every few minutes, he mutters, "Don't worry, we'll be out of here in no time."

The boy releases a tiny squeak, but offers no coherent verbal response.

As father turns aside, he falls target to the very stern look of his captive, and he holds back a sneer. A mocking laughter, maybe, "I told you not to push my buttons, Pretty Boy," he scoffs at him, "Now you're all to die like rats," his next words are targeted to the rest, four in number.

A twisted lip of contempt is the answer, a gaze over the young boy, "You're not going to get away with this…-"

"Hush, Richard," the woman next to him commands softly, "That'll do no good to us now."

"You should listen to your mother for once, Pretty Boy," their ruthless captor takes joy over their distress, and Castle's blood boils, especially when thinking about the child, the innocent victim in all of this, scared of the next blow, the one seated next to the table.

_How does he get the boy out?_

As the captor keeps loading the cash, Castle's gaze turns to his mother, then to the four others. Abe sits there, covered in sweat, almost catatonic, barely with them. Sie knows better than to say anything. She could hardly move or protest even if she wanted. Kyle, tossed on the floor next to her, mutters something, but is most likely delusional. He took a bullet to his knee 3 days ago, pissed 'The Gorilla' off, something that wasn't clever.

His fever refuses to break.

Castle could feel the change in the air for the better part of the evening. Something is going on, for they talked about their 'Guy' for some time now.

Probably the one to help them cross the border.

Thought which is hardly comforting.

The cash finally in the duffle bag, a phone chimes. Their captor smiles when he reads the message.

Finally.

A slight knock on the door is their cue.

Abe jumps.

Sie trembles.

Martha Rodgers grabs her son's warm hand with her own.

Game on.

Their captor snorts as he opens the door of the dark condo, inviting their mysterious guest in, "It's about damn time… Where…-" his words fade as he finds himself on the wrong side of a very threatening aiming gun.

Pointed right at his forehead.

This is a twist none of them saw coming.

"_You_," the captor stutters, shocked, "How…?"

"Told you not to trust anyone, now, didn't I?" a dangerous smile is on his guest's face, and he growls quietly, "Now, the rules of this game are about to change,_ Trapper John._"

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><p><strong><span>AN- Temporary insanity. Told ya. Hehe.  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

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><p>"Who wishes to fight must first count the cost"<p>

― _Sun Tzu__, __The Art of War_

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><p><span> T H E N:<span>

As soon as he's out of the hospital, his steps hurried and calculated, he knows he must act with caution and discretion.

His eyes flicker with determination as he strides across the road, pulling on the soft fabric of his newly-changed hoodie, as he covers his head promptly.

His lips stretch into a vicious smile, he ponders about Tanya's arrogance.

This wife of his made a very foolish mistake. Hasn't she learned by now that testing his patience is highly unclever?

As he paces along the sidewalk, he shakes his head, suppressing a growl. Countless times he told her, taught her, physically so, that she's his. His to love, his to strike, his to impose obedience upon.

But Tanya was rebellious. Ungratefully so. Feeding her, breeding her, shielding her was not enough. She had to seek adventures someplace else, brainwashing Connor to think he's a malfunctioning parent, along the way.

She'll pay for it. And pay for it dearly.

Connor belongs to him. He's his. Fleeing with a predator's offspring is foolish, and Tanya was both stupid and carelessly-brave for pulling this off. He gave her credit for that much.

But a punishment is in need here.

He'll track her down. Claim what is rightfully his, and rid himself of this burden of wife, once and for all.

Pulling out his cell-phone, he makes one quick phone-call.

Just making sure Trapper John won't even think of backstabbing him, or back away from their deal.

He quickens his steps.

It's time to make the final move.

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><p>Beckett sits back as she lets Captain Peterson have the lead. Biting on her lip considerably, fearfully, she dreads what's about to come.<p>

Checking her watch every few minutes, she just barely hears as he instructs his men about the next move. SWAT teams are to go full breach as soon as they spot the robbers leaving towards the bus. Snipers on rooftops will act first thing though, taking them down so the breachers won't go all blind in.

Beckett's insides twist uncomfortably. She knows that if the plan works, the bomb-squad won't be needed, it's not supposed to go south; but just knowing there's C4 in that bank, so dangerously close to the innocent hostages, so close to Castle, gives her the chills.

The homicide detective cannot escape the feeling that there's something they're all missing. Bringing C4 to a bank robbery? An old lady's deposit-box is right in the middle of this gut-twisting plot?

What is going _on_ here?

As her phone chimes she answers it quickly, Esposito's voice sounds bothered- "Agnes didn't have any relatives left," he says once she informs him of the monthly access to the old woman's deposit-box, "Her husband's dead, he daughter and grandson died on a boating accident over a year ago," approaching Ryan, their gazes travel across the small apartment.

Beckett releases a frustrated sigh, and Ryan interjects thoughtfully, "Only survivor left is her former son-in-law, Ron Brandt. We left a message; we haven't heard back yet, Beckett."

This is not at all what she wishes to hear. As her eyes wonder to Peterson, whose still busy throwing instructions, she knows she's starting to lose it.

Thinking about Castle and Martha, held in the hands of those psychopaths, of Alexis, eager to hear good news, of herself, that the mere thought of Castle in danger gives her the creeps, she can feel herself cracking, "Look, we don't have time to wait for return phone-calls," she concludes impatiently, "So _find_ him!...-"

The universe around her shakes to its core.

Gulping loudly, she pushes the phone away from her ear, the world abruptly standing still; she can hear Esposito's urgent voice, asking her what was that, and was that an explosion, and _what is going on?!_

But his voice is a muffled sound, somewhere in the backg of her mind. Her entire world shrinks to the acknowledgment of what just happened.

An explosion.

Explosion that shakes her world, as her heart thunders in her ears; her very soul screaming with denial and distress.

She hardly recalls moving forth, opening the door of the mobile command center, Captain Peterson right behind her, obviously as shocked as she is.

Chaos.

That's the only way to describe what she's seeing.

Rubble.

Dust.

Shattered glass.

And she's numb. Frozen. Speechless.

Firemen, SWAT teams, and police officers struggle to find clear vision through the rubble and smoke, as they full breach inside.

And Beckett is petrified.

The universe moves forth but she's stuck. Her brain commands her legs to move, her hands to pull out her gun, she has to get a grip now. But she finds it so hard to just…._breathe_.

_Castle_ is in there.

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><p>The explosion shook the entire street…And Gosh, was that beautiful.<p>

'The Marker' grins bloodthirstily as the voices around him rise in volume.

He knows that's his cue.

Stupid cops, didn't they know they deal with the best?

Chuckling amusingly, he presses the gas, and he knows Trapper John and the doctors are to step right outside.

They get the cash, Brandt gets the package. That was the deal. Shouldn't be that complicated, right?

He pulls out his cell-phone, knowing the explosion is their sign to bail. Writing a message, he taps quickly, "We're all set?"

The street is blissfully relaxed, as the cops' main action is in the bank itself, no one spots the suspicious vehicle parking just couple of miles away.

A feeble 'Beep' is his answer, and he pulls out the cell-phone to read the message, "Get ready" the message states simply.

'The Marker' smiles. Perfect.

As soon as he's about to stuff the phone back to his pocket, another message is sent, and reading it, his smile broadens-

_"We took some precious loot."_

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><p>Beckett's eyes glisten with stifled tears, burn from dust and smoke, as she and the SWAT team stumble across the pavement, guns in their hands, determined look on their faces.<p>

Beckett can feel herself shaking uncontrollably as they make their way inside. All she can think about is 'Please be ok, please be ok, _please by ok_!'

Her distressed heart calls to its other half, as she cries hoarsely, "Castle?"

Her own voice is unfamiliar to her. Trembling. Unstable.

'Where is he?' she thinks as her gun points forward, she focuses on nothing, nothing but find him and making sure he's ok. Complete. Safe and sound.

Find him.

Find him, find him, _find him_!

"Castle?" she calls again, her tone desperate, she knows, but cannot care less at the moment.

Where are you? She doesn't see anything! "_Castle!_" she calls again, her voice rising, battling with sanity.

It's not only her, though, who wonders.

Peterson, she can see him now, next to him is Roman, she think that's his name, on the right is Billups, his eyes wide and his gun held tightly in his hands, but no…nothing.

Nothing.

As she keeps calling him, his name slips from her lips over and over, she leans forward, pushing irritating obstacles away, her eyes trying to adjust to the endless abyss around her.

They split across the room, the not so much large space, and the bad feeling in her heart settles much deeper in her core, filling her entire being.

Fading voices fill their surrounding, as they smoothly move across the room, and a hesitant, taken-aback voice suddenly echoes- "Sir?"

Officer Monfriez, Beckett thinks, as he suddenly appears out of the suffocating fog, eyes wide in surprise and bewilderment, "They're…gone, sir!"

Beckett feels she's about to pass out, and Peterson is all but amused, "_What?!_" he spits angrily.

"They're gone, Sir!" Monfriez repeats, puzzled, "The 'Doctors', the hostages? They're not here! Not single one of them! They just….vanished!"

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><p><span><strong>AN****- So…..What do you guys think? **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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><p>Captain Peterson tries to find some reason, a pattern, in this specific crime scene, but what surrounds him is stillness.<p>

Gone?

How is it even possible?

His gaze wanders to the young homicide detective next to him. Her eyes widen, her expression almost haunted, she's hyperventilating, blinking furiously.

"Sir, I think she's in shock, sir," Monfriez comments awkwardly.

Oh, God. Just fucking great. This is the last thing he needs right now, the girl starting to lose it.

"Call Handerson," he comments offhandedly, "Let him take her away, I can't even…just get her out of here."

And a minute later, she's out of his sight.

His fists on either side of his hips, the Captain tries to focus, "Monfriez," he says slowly, considerably, staring ahead at a cracking wall, the dust and rubble almost consuming him, "How many were held captive here?"

Monfriez' hesitating voice mutters, "23 civilians, sir."

23. Not counting the unborn child.

"Things are about to get messy, Monfriez," Peterson says slowly, the outside voices increasing, "We have 23 people missing here, we need to manage this with extra precaution. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Monfriez nods.

"Good. Let's get this thing rolling, then."

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><p>Kate Beckett remembers the shooting.<p>

Of course she does, she memorized every single detail about that day to the last possible second.

She never told her partner that. She knows that admitting to remembering what he said…would have altered things. Not necessarily in a good way.

She wishes to hold on to that fragile routine they created so perfectly.

But of course, she remembers the shooting.

She remembers giving her eulogy to her captain and mentor, she remembers hearing her partner calls her name, as he springs forth to shield her with his body from what's about to occur.

She remembers the sharp pain in her chest from where the bullet hit, but more than anything, she remembers the burn of suffocation, air leaving her lungs, as those scream in pain, the ability to breathe so cruelly denied.

That pain is a dull ache compared to the torture filling her now.

She can feel her body being held by one of the officers…Monfriez is his name? everything is so blurry. Yes, she probably is in shock.

"Detective?" she can sense him, his breath, as he speaks to her gently. God, the guy must think she's crazy. A homicide detective losing capacity over a bank robbery? "Detective? Oh, man; let me get you something to drink."

In a blink of an eye he's back, handing her a small disposable cup filled with cold water. As she takes a small sip, she snaps out of her sudden catatonic state, "Oh, God!" she cries abruptly, "What…what happened?!"

Monfriez is obviously relieved to discover she's back in the real world, and looking around, he notices the forces bursting in. Oh man… oh man! "I'm as confused as you are, detective," he scratches his head uncomfortably, "I have no idea….this is unheard of…not to mention embarrassing, but it seems our captives and robbers are… unaccounted for, I guess."

Come again?

_Unaccounted for_?!

That is the fuel to her system, "Castle!" she yelps pitifully, jumping forward from her sitting position near the mobile vehicle, but he stops her, hands holding her shoulders in place, "Whaa!," he calls, "Hold right there, skipper! Just where is it you're going?"

What?! "To find them!" she exclaims, isn't it obvious? Castle, Martha! They were in that bank! Where are they?! How dare he try and hold her back when it's more than obvious that her partner is in danger?!

"Captain told me you're no good in there, Detective; and I know better than to argue. Look, the team is right inside that bank, it's our job to handle those situations, and what can you possibly do there, now? This bank is a death trap, will probably collapse any moment now. We can do nothing but wait."

As much as it pains her, she has to agree…for the moment.

And then it hits her.

Alexis.

Alexis is right here, somewhere, not far, waiting for her to verify that Castle is safe and sound, out of the woods. What is she going to tell her?

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><p>It seems like eternity passes, before it all goes to hell.<p>

Factually speaking, it takes less than 17 minutes for things to quickly escalate.

News-reports come quickly. Broadcasters and journalists fill the scene to cover the story. 23 civilians currently missing, abducted by bank robbers.

This operation failed completely, and someone has to pay the price.

But before any of that happens, they need to find themselves in the chaos currently taking place.

Police forces fill the roads, blocking all exits and entrances to and from New-York.

All law enforcement branches call for backup, managing emergency procedures, but it's like fire-cups for the dead.

They are all probably long gone.

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><p>Sitting quietly in a dark room, he chews on his wasted cigarette. His small eyes narrow in concentration, he breathes slowly.<p>

His remote control in hand, he takes in the news curiously. They speak of possible abduction, a list of missing people. Robbers dressed in scrubs. One Trapper John.

The name rings a bell. And then he recalls. Of course, Trapper John. An old tool. Always had a temper.

But abducting a bunch of clueless civilians? That's reckless, that's beyond foolish.

Stupid tool, trapper John.

He knows the cops will be sniffing at this case longer than he's comfortable with. For the first time in years, he finds himself hesitating.

Should he get involve?

But then again, what other choice does he have?

He doesn't like the idea of police involvement, anywhere, at any time in his life. But desperate times call for desperate measures… shall he step that low?

Mhmmm.

Standing up from his comfortable couch, he turns off the television, heading toward the back door of his tiny apartment, opening one of the wooden closets.

His usual tools stare back at him, and a tiny grin covers his face.

Trapper John will be surprised, no doubt.

The butcher is back.

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><p><strong>AN- Loved it? hated it? Please tell me what you think!  
><strong>


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